In Vain
by Kireteiru
Summary: "Nothing of the heart remains, / Even if we could've stayed, / We've been here long enough, / Long enough to know it's all in vain. / Everything we tried to say, / Up until the final day, / I guess we said enough, / Said enough to know it's all in vain." - "In Vain", Within Temptation (Resist). / A choice was made, and now the world will bear its consequences.


A/N: BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR MY ENDGAME FIX-IT - AVENGERS: ENDGAME (THE SCREW CANON REMIX)!

Also the Russos expect me to believe that Steven Grant "Selfish Douchebag" Rogers abandoned all his friends in the modern era, erased Peggy Carter's choice and original husband and kids, and left Bucky with HYDRA (since they didn't show us otherwise) - among other things (HYDRA growing in SHIELD, etc) - and all he got was an 'oh, welcome back'? Miss me with that shit. The characters may be fake but my emotions are real and I'm gonna die mad about Endgame.

* * *

It took him four days to break.

Four days of fake smiles and faker laughs – when he could make them come. Four days of joy being slowly but surely choked by grief and longing and despair. Four days of the vise around his chest winding tighter and tighter, cracks splitting through his heart with sounds like gunshots, pieces of him falling away into cool, empty darkness. Four days of memories, of whispers that sounded like Lukin, like Karpov, like Pierce – "You deserve this. You deserve to be left behind. You are not worthy – you were _weak_ – _you deserve this_."

It took Bucky four years to reclaim himself from the Winter Soldier.

It took the Soldier four days to take him back.

* * *

The Asset left in the middle of the night. Its handler had rejected it, and the thought of accepting another handler from the members of the team cause unacceptable malfunctions – tightness of chest, shortness of breath, water leaking from its eyes, choking sobs escaping its mouth.

Error. Unacceptable. The Asset is a weapon; weapons do not _weep_, do not _want_, do not _feel_.

But even so it desperately craved the Chair to wipe all of it away. That pain was brief and faint compared to _this_, and after, there was nothing but the Mission.

And Cryo.

Sweet, cold peace.

But there were no Chairs left; its handler – _former_ handler, and another unacceptable gasp of pain-without-source – had destroyed all the ones it had known about and some it had not. And all the cryotubes were –

No.

Not destroyed.

Not yet.

There was one that was still functional. The Asset had been taken to it once before, extracted from a failed Mission by its – _former handler_ and brought to skilled technicians that had repaired it and put it in Cryo for reprogramming it did not remember. They hadn't needed the Chair to rewrite the Asset – perhaps they could overwrite these malfunctions as well. And if not… its self-preservation protocols were still in effect, but as skilled as they were, surely they could decommission it.

Anything but this clutching, gasping _ache_ that struck without warning and dropped it as surely as a bullet.

But the Asset had no way of signaling them without its former handler – another malfunction, error: a choked sob, even if it went unheard in the dead of night – and there was no safe place to await extraction while also avoiding recapture. Its former handler had left it behind, but the Asset was still a valuable weapon; no doubt he would still want to keep it close, if only to stop others from using it to shape history.

It would have to make its way back to base – to "Wakanda" – on its own.

* * *

The Asset moved through the world like the ghost it had been for seventy years. Without the Widow (where had she gone?), there was no one who could track it through the chaos caused by the Return – except perhaps the technicians back in Wakanda.

But if they were, if they knew it was coming, if they were awaiting its arrival, they gave no sign.

It stowed away on a ship bound for Europe, keeping itself carefully hidden by memorizing the crew rotations and moving only at night while most were asleep. None of them seemed to realize the Asset was there; it wasn't supposed to feel, but even so it was a relief to know that its skills hadn't deteriorated that much. When it arrived in Europe, it slipped off the ship unseen and found another bound for Africa.

For Wakanda.

It remembered that land in shattered glimpses – warm sun, bleating goats, white stars wheeling overhead while wind rushed through the long grass.

Its former handler calling, visiting, making sure it was taken care of. What had the Asset done wrong that made its handler abandon it? It had struggled with the Mission it was given – Memory Retrieval: Bucky Barnes - but it had never been told that mission failure would result in rejection rather than correction. This handler had been much more understanding about the Asset's limitations, given it time to complete its mission – and then suddenly no more.

The Asset had been left behind before, given over to other handlers, but – but – its _First Handler –_

Error. Unacceptable malfunction. The Asset is a weapon; weapons do not feel. It struggled to muffle its sobs in its jacket. Noise meant discovery. Discovery meant failure of Mission: Return to Wakanda. It forced its mind to quiet into the _ready-wait_ state its handlers demanded of it while on route to the mission location.

It did not think about its First Handler.

* * *

The technicians were not expecting the Asset, but the moved quickly once it arrived. It had not been able to find adequate resources on the road, and so it had been halfway to automatic decommissioning when it staggered into one of the border villages. It barely had time to ask the people not to alert the First Handler of its location before entering enforced rest, its body giving out under it.

The Asset woke alone in a medical facility, but it was not alone for long. A young woman it recognized as Head Technician Shuri entered. "White Wolf!" she said, "You could have just _called_, you know. No need to almost die – _again_ – to come back to Wakanda." She grinned. "It's good to have you back, though. And to _be_ back. But what brings you here? I would have thought you'd be with the Other White Boi."

"Mission: Recover Bucky Barnes failed," the Asset reported, "Asset Codename Winter Soldier returned to base for reprogramming. Or decommissioning," it added, only half as an afterthought. The symptoms of its malfunctions had persisted long past normal injury and came and went without regard for the Asset's Mission; it was possible reprogramming might not take. If that was the case, the only option left was decommissioning.

Head Technician Shuri stopped moving and watched the Asset for several long, silent minutes. The Asset waited. It had not been programmed for impatience.

At last, Head Technician Shuri said, "Mission report."

The Asset explained as best it could. It – Bucky Barnes – had tried to repair itself, tried to heal its mind to accomplish Mission: Recover Bucky Barnes with the First Handler's support. It had not been told there was a time limit until it had run out. The First Handler had left it behind, and –

_A house with no foundation cannot stand._

"Mission: Recover Bucky Barnes failed," the Asset finished, "Mission Target: Bucky Barnes irrecoverable. Asset Winter Solder awaiting correction and reprogramming. Or decommissioning," it said again.

"Why do you think you need to be decommissioned, Soldier?" Head Technician Shuri asked. The Asset couldn't read her face.

"Asset Winter Soldier suffering unacceptable recurring malfunctions, no known source. Estimate 90% chance of future-mission interference without reprogramming, 65% chance of future-mission failure."

"Report symptoms."

The Asset did. Head Technician Shuri's eyes became wet, and the Asset (is a weapon, _does not feel_) panicked. Had it harmed Head Technician Shuri? Was it going to be corrected for this in addition to mission failure? Head Technician Shuri had been kind to it even after Mission: Stop Helmut Zemo failed, had given it a new arm, a better one – would she put it in the Black Box while deciding its fate?

"Calm down, Soldier," Head Technician Shuri said, wiping her eyes and steeling herself, "This facility does not have the equipment necessary for reprogramming what you described. No facility does. There is no cure."

The Asset is a weapon. Weapons do not feel. The Asset cannot be disappointed.

"Nor will you be decommissioned," Head Technician Shuri continued, "You are a valuable Asset to more than just your First Handler. Decommissioning yourself or asking another to do it for you are not acceptable. Understood?"

"Affirmative."

Head Technician Shuri took a deep breath, then said, "I will talk with King T'Challa about – acceptable alternatives."

The Asset hesitated, then said as meekly as possible, "Cryosleep?" Even the sharp bite of freezing and burn of awakening were worth the sweet, cold stillness between.

"That will be one of them," Head Technician Shuri nodded, and the Asset relaxed. "Until a decision is made, you will train with the Kingsguard, the Dora Milaje, whoever is assigned to you. General Okoye will come by to take you to your quarters, and after that some of the Dora Milaje will escort you to training and maintenance. Understood?"

"Affirmative."

* * *

The Asset followed orders as best it could, trained hard and learned everything it was taught. The Kingsguard and the Dora Milaje were skilled fighters, far more skilled than any of its previous field teams – except maybe its First Handler and his teams – and the other noncombatants were wise and skilled in their own ways. But all of them always looked faintly sad when they saw the Asset. Did they know that it had failed its mission, that it had been rejected by its First Handler? Did they know how it would be corrected?

Was _this_ its correction? To train and train, and remember its failure? No more missions – just the pain with no injury? Had its failure been so great?

It tried to resume the Mission, to dredge up the shattered pieces of Mission Target: Bucky Barnes, but that only made its pain worse, compromised the mission given by Head Technician Shuri.

The Asset had no choice but to let go.

* * *

"Soldier."

The Asset moved automatically to stand at attention, even if it meant getting hit by the Dora Milaje it had been training with. Head Technician Shuri was not alone; the Man With the Wings – Mission Assist Sam Wilson, Codename Falcon – was with her.

The Asset's body grew cold and tense. Its First Handler could not be far behind. But Mission Assist Falcon seemed to notice its rising distress (weapons _do not feel_), because he took a step back and spread his hands to show he was unarmed. "Steve's not here, man," he said, "He doesn't even know _I'm_ here – no one does."

"You recognize him, Soldier?" Head Technician Shuri asked.

"Affirmative. Samuel Wilson, Codename Falcon. Mission Assist to – to the First Handler."

Head Technician Shuri and Mission Assist Falcon exchanged a look that made the Asset quiver. "Calm down, Soldier," Head Technician Shuri said quickly, "Take deep breaths, then report on Mission: Recover Bucky Barnes. Take as long as you need."

The Asset obeyed. When it was done, Mission Assist Falcon rubbed a hand over his face and gritted out, "_Jesus_."

"Well done, Soldier," said Head Technician Shuri, "Return to your training."

The Asset obeyed.

* * *

"Jesus."

"I know."

"I mean, I thought something was up – I thought he was fronting, but Steve acted like it was fine. I never imagined…"

"If what you say about Rogers' _adventures_ through time is true, then it's been seventy years since he knew Bucky Barnes. _This_ version of him, anyway. I'm not surprised he didn't see, even if he had remembered some of Barnes's tells."

"…Barnes isn't coming back from this, is he."

"Most likely not. The Soldier's tried, but whatever's left of Bucky Barnes is in too much pain, withdrawn almost completely into the Winter Soldier. He told me that HYDRA broke Barnes down by telling him he wasn't worthy of Rogers – not fast enough to save himself, not skilled enough to save Rogers, not strong enough to resist torture – but Barnes never imagined Rogers would prove them right."

"_Jesus_."

"I know."

* * *

"Soldier."

"Ready to comply."

"A decision has been made. You are being put in cryosleep until further notice."

Cryo. Sweet, cold nothingness, and no pain. _The woods are lovely, dark and deep…_

"Come. The prep team is ready for you."

* * *

The look of peace – nearly _bliss_ – on the Soldier's face as he went under made Sam's chest go tight, tears pricking at his eyes. It had hurt, when Steve left and came back an old man, but he couldn't imagine how much worse it was for Steve's _oldest friend_ to be – _left behind_.

Abandoned. Barnes had broken through seventy years of brainwashing for Steve, only to get abandoned. And not just Barnes – even the Soldier had felt rejected by his "First Handler." The heartache had been clear in his voice, on his face, even if he hadn't understood what the feeling was.

The machines beeped – freezing complete – and one of the other technicians murmured a soft prayer in Xhosa as they drew a white sheet over the tube. Sam wiped away his tears before they could fall and asked Shuri, "What do you want me to tell Steve?"

"The truth. That Rogers made his choice, and now the world will bear its consequences."


End file.
